Page 48 of Rogue Riders Duet

I only get one dazed second before the pain explodes through me.

A scream claws up my throat, but I choke it down so all that comes is a raw, gasping sound somewhere between a cry and a curse.

The world tilts, and I roll onto my side, curling in on myself. The nausea that’s been simmering all morning seizes that exact moment to roar up and strike.

I can’t feel my fingers as I fumble at my helmet strap, shaking all over as I tear it off just in time.

This morning’s energy drink and that half-dead cereal bar burn as I heave them up, worse than the dust in my throat before. My ribs contract painfully with every retch as my stomach tries to turn itself inside out.

Fuck.

My ears ring from the pain, and my vision is blurry with tears I desperately don’t want to let loose. My hip screams in a different way than its usual soreness, the pain coming white-hot and sharp, like someone is trying to carve it out of me with a dull blade.

When I finally stop retching, I’m left a sweaty, trembling mess.

“Merde, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You okay?”

Luc’s voice is wrong as he drops to his knees beside me. Too high. Too real.

Just like mine was. Does he have a fake voice too?

I glance up, and his blue eyes are wide, flicking over me, trying to assess the damage while also acting like he didn’t just cause it. His jersey has been pulled off one shoulder from the fight, and he’s covered in dust. He looks like a fucking mess, his eyes completely panicked.

Probably because he knows damn well he could be kicked off the circuit for this.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my gloved hand as he reaches toward me, a small tremble in his fingers like he doesn’t know what to do.

I lurch back. “Don’t touch me, asshole.” My voice comes out harsh and low, and it wasn’t even a mask this time.

His hand freezes midair, and he looks like I slapped him again, this time without needing to lift a finger. Maybe he realizes his charm can’t fix this.

I breathe through my teeth as I turn away from him to catalog my injuries, blinking fast against the tears that still want to fall.

Gritting my jaw, I heave myself up onto my knees.

Fuck, it hurts.

I have to plant a hand in the dirt just to keep from eating it again.

Black boots come into view, and even with my brain partially checked out from pain, I know it’s him. Mason stands silently over me with my bike in one hand and his other hand held out to me.

Another one of his offers.

I hesitate for one shaky breath, but then I take it. His grip is solid as he helps me to my feet, then steps back so I can get to my bike, like it’s nothing to him.

But right now, for me, it’s everything.

I don’t even care that he touched my bike as I swing one leg over with a grunt of pain and no grace or skill, but it doesn’t matter because I manage it.

“Should I call a medic?” Luc asks from somewhere behind me, sounding guilty. “I didn’t mean… fuck. I didn’t see you.”

I don’t answer him. I can’t.

I’m afraid to open my mouth.

Pulling on my helmet, I focus on nothing but forcing my legs to pedal just enough to nudge me into the line of the trail. Every bump brings fresh fire in my hip as I descend slowly, paying no attention as other riders overtake me. When I look back, I’m not surprised to find Mason riding behind me.

Silent support.